Misguided Mistakes
by Shelbey
Summary: Karen McCormick will never be able to forgive her brother for never being there for her.


"Hey, bitch."

Karen felt her heart race as she turned around, clutching her notebook to her chest and tearing her eyes away from the ground. She always hated walking through the college campus at night, irregardless of the so called safety protocols the school implemented to keep students attending late running classes safe walking back to their dorms.

She took stock of the things she had on her person at the time, a couple of dollars, her text book, a few pencils, and the cell phone that Kenny had bought her when she was first awarded enough grants and scholarships to make it to the state college. He was always doing things like that, even though he hardly made enough money to keep a roof over his head and food on his table. Still living in South Park, Kenny kept in contact, but never came to visit her, though she wasn't very far away in Denver. It hurt her feelings, the constant excuses of him working all the time getting very old.

When they were children, he rarely left her side, and took such good care of her that even her guardian angel stopped coming around. But now, on her own in the big city with no street savoir-faire, or even pepper spray or a tazer between her and certain peril, she met eyes with the man accosting her from across the quad. He was filthy and definitely not a student, and she cursed herself silently for not making friends to walk back to her dorm with, for going to a school with an open campus. "What's a purty little thing like you doin' out here all alone, huh?"

Terrified, Karen hurried on by him, neglecting to reply and hoping that she could reach the safety of the student union or perhaps another building with a professor or janitor inside of it still. Her dorm was the farthest away because she was a freshman, and she heard the dulled footsteps of the man close behind her as she walked as quickly as she could waiting for someone, _anyone_, to pass by. "Whatcha doin'?" the man demanded, grabbing her arm and twisted her around. She could smell the homelessness about him, a mix of body odor and alcohol, recalling that smell lingering around her parents and her older brother, Kevin, all three of whom were in jail.

"Leave me alone!" she squealed, dropping her things and trying to pry the man's hand off of her arm. He gripped her other hand, and forced her to the grass, straddling her waist. He slapped her hard to get her to stop struggling and she cried out in pain. She hated Kenny right then, hated him so much. This was just another Friday he was supposed to have been there, to spend the weekend with her and keep her company. But, like usual, he had canceled, and she felt the anger and the frustration and the fear boiling over inside of her.

She began to cry, unwillingly, but she couldn't help herself. This was all too much to handle, and she tried to distance herself from the situation, hoping that maybe it wouldn't feel so terrible. A loud groan sounded just as she resigned herself to her fate, and the weight lifted from her body, making her sit up as quickly as she could and take in her surroundings. A man in a cloak was beating the hell out of the homeless drunk, with a fury that she could hardly understand.

Then there was blood, splattering from the man's nose and mouth and ears, drenching the gloves and the face and the hood of the masked man in the spandex suit, a costume a little more sophisticated than she remembered when she was a child. The green 'M' adorning his chest assured her to her safety, even when she knew that the guardian angel of all her dreams and her memories killed her would be attacker before her very eyes, his wrath fueling his fists.

"Angel," she whispered, walking over to him, blood stained her shoes and the knees of her jeans as she knelt beside him, taking his wrists in her own small hands, and stopping him from destroying the already dead man. "Angel, he's dead." Her angel didn't respond, but he did stop trying to beat the carcass, his hands clenched into fists. He turned to her, and she met his shocking blue eyes with a complete air of familiarity. The same he had when she was just a small girl, and he was rescuing her from playground bullies and stupid foster parents.

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Karen," he said ruefully in his gravelly voice, that seemed almost too forced to really belong to him. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. I should have." She hugged him tightly, putting her hand against the back of his head as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, his hands gripping her jacket like any second she would be whisked away from him. She felt a dampness against her skin, and realized that her guardian angel was crying, though this seemed silly to her. He had grown in the years, just like she had. He was taller, had broad shoulders and a narrow waist, fit though perhaps a bit malnourished, judging by his slightly sunken cheeks.

"Please don't cry," she begged, her voice a hoarse whisper like she had forgotten how to speak. "Thank you, Angel, for saving me. I've always had faith that you'd keep me safe, all these years, even though I didn't see you. Nothing bad has ever happened to me, because you've been here for me." He pulled back from her and nodded, and Karen wiped his wet cheeks with the edge of her sleeve. She helped him to his feet and picked up her things, pulling him by the hand to her dorm room where no one would ever find out who murdered that bum in the middle of the campus.

She took his clothes from him until he was only in the mask covering his face and hair and his boxers, sitting down at the small desk in the corner of her room. She quickly ran to wash the clothes at the laundry at the first floor of the dorm, glad she didn't see anyone, and rushed back when they were put in the washer. He was, of course, still there. Karen breathed a sigh of relief, glad that he didn't just vanish like he usually did. "Are you hungry?" she asked, pulling a loaf of bread with jam and peanut butter from the mini-fridge by the door she had gotten as a gift from her old dorm mate that transferred schools only last month.

"No," he replied, but she made three sandwiches and put them on the desk before him anyway, sitting on her bed and pulling her knees up to her chest. The angel sighed and began to eat, and Karen knew that he was hungry, no getting around it.

After a moment of contemplating, Karen said, "Why do you always come when I need you the most? Why me?" He stopped eating, his jaw frozen mid-chew, and there was so much tension around him that she could almost see it. She continued, looking at her toes, "Is it because no one in my family cares about me? Mom and dad, Kevin and Kenny. I never hear from them, and I thought Kenny and I were so close. But every time I want to see him he never shows up." Tears threatened to spill over and her voice cracked, sadness filling her from head to feet.

The guardian angel, the man of her childhood, her savior, stood up and wiped the jelly from his lip with his thumb, sucking it off and cleaning his fingers on a wet napkin. "Karen, I'm here to take care of you because I care about you and your safety. And I'm sure Kenny has a very good reason for not being able to see you as often as he would like."

"So you say," she said sadly. The man sighed and kissed the top of her head affectionately, flattening her mousy brown hair in a show of platonic, brotherly love. She met his blue eyes again, something clicking in the back of her mind that she couldn't quite place her finger on. "Who are you?" she mused, knowing that he wasn't truly an angel, at least not one of God. Not dressed the way he was, not willing to go as far as he did to hurt those who tried to hurt her. God's angels didn't kill, did they? He was either a very righteous man, human, in a mask, or a different type of otherworldly creature that didn't come from Heaven.

"Someone who cares for your safety very much," he said, his voice strained and almost painful, sitting down beside her and crossing his arms over his chest.

"At least someone does," she replied wistfully, leaning against him and closing her eyes. Karen didn't see the look of absolute hurt on his face, the desire to explain everything to her, to tell her the truth that he loved her so much that it hurt. That she just wasn't ready to know, or face the reality of his situation. That he would sell his soul a million times over to make sure his sister was safe and sound, that she got through life in one piece. He could rest easy every minute she was happy and whole.

Kenny let Karen sleep on his shoulder for quite some time before retrieving his clothes from the laundry, the blood completely washed from them without a trace. He reentered her dorm with the card key he found on her dresser, tucking her in to bed and pulling on a bright orange hoodie and a pair of jeans, knowing that he would freeze in his wet spandex and cape. Kenny was determined to show up first thing in the morning, not as Mysterion, but as himself. To prove to his sister that he wanted so much to be in her life.

He had spent too many nights behind the mask, trailing her from rooftops and darkened allies, fighting his way through one too many drunk frat boys, one too many gangsters and pimps and thugs that wanted Karen for their very own. She was too precious to let go.

Karen awoke the next day with a note signed with a green question mark, promising a speedy return and guaranteeing her safety. As she read it, a knock sounded at her door, and she opened it to see her strikingly blond older brother Kenny stroll in, pulling her into a familiar embrace that she would never be able to place.


End file.
